


Bridgeway Meetings

by kams_log



Series: Destiel Prompts & One Shots [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Awkwardness, Crushes, First Meetings, Fluff, Homeless Dean, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Mild Angst, Professor Castiel, canon typical language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:52:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/kams_log
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's been just trying to get by with whatever he has. Ever since he got thrown out by his landlord, he's gotten by with the small paycheck he gets at the end of every week and the roof of his car sheltering him at night. He doesn't have much these days, but he has a picture of his mother to give him the strength to keep pushing harder every day.</p>
<p>But, he almost has a heart attack the day he walks to work and realizes his photo is missing. Sometimes, the kindness of a stranger is all someone needs to remember the world isn't an evil place after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridgeway Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> for my friend Laura :) (cains-mane.tumblr.com)
> 
> hope you like it! apologies for any mistakes. i haven't edited this yet.

Dean sighed and cupped his hands close to his lips, breathing into them steadily in an effort to warm them. It was early spring, the entire city beautiful and green and blooming, but it didn’t erase the chill that accompanied it. It didn’t help when he was halfway homeless.

He took another measured breath and rubbed his hand together, sitting on a bench as he watched the world around him. Across the street was the old man and his dog, a man Dean had met many times. He’d been one of the first people to help Dean when he got kicked out of his apartment, hopeless and desperate and almost ruining his life to completion if the man hadn’t grabbed him off the road and put him in the man’s own ragged blanket. The dog, Max as Dean learned, licked his scabbed knees from when he’d fallen. The man, George, had taught him the first things he’d need to know about living without a home.

It took a while, but it wasn’t as terrifying as Dean once thought. He’d had to give up smoking to keep every bit of his savings, hoping and almost praying to get another place again. In the meantime, all he had was his car, the one thing no one could take from him. The nights didn’t get any warmer, but George let him keep the blanket, and when he was curled up in the floor of the backseat, it wasn’t too bad.

Dean owed that man and his dog everything. Now that he had a job again and was working his way up back to his old life, no, a better life. That was the goal. He also made it a personal mission to get George and Max a meal a day. It was the best Dean could afford without starving to death himself, but it was worth it. He owed them after all.

He watched as a couple stopped and handed George change, watched as the old man smiled and thanked them genuinely.

Dean sighed. He still couldn’t believe that this was his life. He’d never imagined living on the street, his only roof being the car his late father had given him just before he died. He struggled daily. But it was worth it, he thought, now knowing that he could survive.

He stood and shoved his hands deep in his pockets, reveling in the warmth his fingers found there before stepping out and wandering over to the river. A white bridge crossed it, the quickest and easiest way for Dean to get to his auto job. It didn’t pay much, but it was close and it kept him going.

He made his way across the bridge, admiring the way the water rippled and reflected the sunlight under the breeze. It was clear that day, bright. It was a morning that made Dean feel like everything would be alright.

Yet, he was always skeptical when he felt like that. Emotions were unreliable, and just because the day happened to look nice never meant it was. For instance, his landlord threw out all of his things while he was away looking for a job, and returned to be cussed out and threatened with police if he tried to go inside and make sure he had everything.

He was still counting his blessings that his mother’s picture had been carefully put away in the boxes thrown out.

Thinking of it now, he instinctively felt for the photo in his coat pocket. He’d taken to carrying it with him everywhere, especially after the scare when he was kicked out. He couldn’t bear losing anything of his mother’s. Never. He would die protecting anything belonging to her memory. It was all he had left, some days.

It was for that very reason he felt his heart lunge into his throat when he felt nothing there, instead, finding a hole at the base of his pocket.

He choked, gasping as he immediately rushed to turn out his pockets. There was nothing, it was nowhere. Dean cursed himself for even feeling remotely happy. How could he be happy, when he’d been an idiot and lost his most important possession without even noticing.

“ _Shit,_ ” Dean swore aloud, running a hand through his hair as he spun around, glancing everywhere in hopes of seeing it. Maybe it’d just fallen out a moment ago? Maybe it was by the bench-- _the bench_.

Dean forced himself to breathe as he dashed back across the bridge, eyes wide and fixed ahead where he knew he’d sat last. He just had to get to it, just had to find it--

“Sir, _sir_!”

Dean didn’t even hear it until the last second. He stumbled and shouted, limbs flailing as he missed the first step that led him off the bridge. His eyes widened as the ground and steps rushed up at him to an alarming rate. He shoved his arms out, bracing for impact--which never came.

He gasped sharply as a lean chest broke into his view, arms circling around his shoulders tight before he could collapse. He looked up, embarrassment filling his cheeks as he took a look at his rescuer.

Blue eyes filled his vision. Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Are you alright?” The stranger asked, voice rumbling like thunder. Dean felt like whiplash, staring at eyes so clear with a voice so deep. He nodded shakily, hands tightening on the man’s over-- _was that a trench coat?_

“Y-Yeah,” Dean murmured, glancing down and standing upright now that he was safe. “Uh... sorry, I just--” His gaze snapped back up to the bench, just twenty feet away. “I’m sorry, really, I just have to--”

“Wait,” the man ordered, grip tightening on Dean’s shoulders. “I was trying to call you earlier. I think you dropped something. When you were sitting earlier?”

Dean stared in bewilderment as the man pulled a small photo from the folds of his coat, holding it out for Dean to see.

His heart clamored as recognition filled his senses. His mother’s face smiled out at him from the picture, eyes bright and arms wrapped around a much smaller version of himself.

Dean sighed in relief and took the photo carefully. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “Seriously, thank you. I was freaking out man. Really.”

“You did look concerned,” the man laughed, eyes darting down shyly. Dean glanced up in time to see it, mouth drying.

Damn. His rescuer, in more than one way today, was too hot to be fair.

“Thank you, again,” Dean said, extending a hand. “I owe you. Can I get you anything? Coffee, a drink, or...?”

The man’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, reaching out to shake his hand. “You don’t owe me anything. It was my pleasure.”

Dean laughed and shook his head. “Okay, owe you or not, I really do want to return the favor. This... this picture means a lot to me. I would have been nuts without it.”

“Is it your mother?” The man asked.

Dean grinned, eyes softening as he touched the corners of the photo. “Yeah. She passed away when I was really young. But she’s everything to me.”

“I’m glad I could reunite you,” the man said kindly. “But, if you really do mean it... I wouldn’t mind having coffee with you later this afternoon?”

Dean did a double take, too stunned to reply for all of a moment. “R-Really? You sure?”

The man raised an eyebrow in amusement. “If your offer still stands, of course.”

Dean beamed. “Yeah, it _definitely_ does.”

The man smiled back just as brightly as he pulled a business card out of his coat. Dean had a moment of panic. This guy was probably accomplished, had his life put together. Dean barely had an auto job and lived in a car. This was a bad idea. A very, _very_ bad idea.

But the man was still smiling as he handed over the card, and Dean glanced down.

“My name’s Castiel. I’m free to meet at noon? If that works for you?”

Dean stared at the way the man, Castiel’s, eyes lit up. He watched the way his lips turned up ever so slightly, genuinely, his own gaze matching Dean’s in sincerity.

Yeah. Maybe _one_ coffee date couldn’t hurt.

“That’ll be perfect,” Dean grinned. “I’m Dean.”

“Well,” Castiel smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Dean. I’ll meet you here at noon?”

“I’ll be here,” Dean replied. “Again, thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

They shook hands, and Dean _definitely_ didn’t stare at the man’s ass as he walked away. Damn. This stranger was going to kill him. But until then, he had all morning to dream about coffee and donuts and blue eyes until he got to see them again for real.

**Author's Note:**

> me: lovefromdean.tumblr.com
> 
> i hope you liked it! please let me know what you think :)


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